His Little Girl
by findafight
Summary: Heaven help the poor soul who messes with his little girl.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own hetalia, nor do I intend to offend anyone with this work of fiction.

* * *

She stopped dead, eyes wide. She grabbed his sleeve and looked him in the eye, tears streaming down. "York is burning." was all she said.

. . . . . .

He stared at the figure silhouetted in flames, the only indication of who it was were the patches of red on their jacket that the flames illuminated. It was _him._ How many times would he try to hurt him? He was about to call out to the figure of the person he despised when he turned.

When Alfred saw the face of the figure, a sharp pain, which had nothing to do with the buildings burning around him, pinched his gut so suddenly that he retched. It wasn't him, the person wasn't even male. It was his sister. His sweet little sister, with the maniac grin on her face illuminated by the fires, her eyes bored into him as she burned all that held him together. He couldn't understand what would possess her to hurt him so.

She knelt down next to him and wiped his mouth with her sleeve. Leaning her head close to his ear, she whispered sweetly, in the same tone she had used a thousand times when they were children, "How does it feel, Alfred? To have your heart burn as you watch helplessly from the ground? As your people cry in fear, not knowing what will happen to them? How does feel to think you no longer have a family to lean on? That the ones that were there for you throughout your life are now at war with you? How does it feel, brother, to have your own sister burn down your capital? How does it feel, having your twin turn on you?"

Alfred could barely think through the pain, she was burning him on _purpose_. He could only mutter through clenched teeth, "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious? America invaded Canada. York burned. Canada countered by invading Washington, and burning it. This is vengeance, Alfred. History may say England did this; that the British army burned down Washington in a great ball of flame, but you and I will know otherwise, eh, Brother?"

Alfred's eyes widened. He didn't think York would run as deep as it did. She was still a colony; it should have had more effect on England. "Matt…" he croaked as she stood up and brushed off her pants.

"Alfred, I highly advise getting some cool cloths to cool you down. This fever will burn for a while." Her expression hardened as she turned away, "Funny how tables turn..." She whispered as she walked out into the city.

. . . . . .

He was nervous, more nervous than he should have been. Would she come? He had no idea, and it was driving him crazy. If she did, he had no idea what he would say to her.

Alfred looked up as the door opened and in walked the English delegator and the Nation himself, and no one else. He let out a sigh. He didn't want to see her, but he asked anyway. "Is, uh, is Canada coming to this?"

The older nation stared at him. "Yes, Mattea will be attending this, at her own request. I believe she should be here quite soon."

He stiffened as the door opened again, slowly. Mattea slipped into the room with a quiet, "Sorry" and slid into the seat beside Arthur. He noticed that she had grown taller and filled out quite a bit since the last time he had clearly seen her, and she could pass for fifteen now if she wanted to.

She folded her hands into her lap and looked about the room, looking down when she caught Alfred's eye. It was going to be a long meeting.

. . . . . . .

"Are you ready to go, Dad?" she asked, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her.

Arthur put a hand on her head and smiled, "You go on ahead, Poppet. I just have to speak to Alfred about something."

"Alright." She smiled and glided out of the room.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Arthur slammed Alfred into the wall, holding him up by his collar. His eyes bore into the American as he snarled at his former colony, "Don't you _ever_ try _anything _like that _again, _Alfred. If you do, Iwill _personally_ make sure you suffer. Not Britain, but Arthur. And Arthur is a lot less frivolous than Britain. I will not give you another chance. Do you understand?"

Alfred's eyes went wide. He had no idea what the elder was talking about. So he asked. "A-Arthur, what are you talking about? D-don't do what ever again?"

That wasn't the right thing to say, Alfred realized, when the Brit's eyes hardened, and he pushed him into the wall harder. Trough gritted teeth he spat at the American, "I will say this once, Alfred, only once. Don't. You. Ever. Invade. Canada. Again. Or I will make sure you thoroughly regret it. Do you know how scared she was?"

"She was scared? But, at Washington, she…she-" he took a shuddering breath, "_She_ was the scary one."

"Do you even think? Don't you know _why_ she did that? She thought she was going to _die_, Alfred. She thought you, her own twin brother, was going to kill her."

He stared at the man holding him two inches off the ground. That wasn't possible. "b-but Arthur, I would never in a million years try to-"

"What do you think Manifest destiny _is,_ Alfred? What did you think annexing Canada would do? Burning York? She thought you were killing her. She thought she was dying. If she hadn't fought back so damn hard; if you had _won_, what do you think would have happened? After you had taken her land and assimilated her people that were different, enslaved the ones who had escaped your southern states, and all but erased everything she stands for now, what did you think would happen to her?"

Alfred stared at Arthur, letting what he had said sink in. After a while, he swallowed. "Do you really think she would have died if I had won?" he whispered.

Arthur released his collar and looked him in the eyes, "Yes," he said as he turned towards the door, then turning back and saying, half to himself, "God help the stupid bastard that tries to hurt my little girl." Before opening the door of the meeting room and walking out.

* * *

A/N: Another head-cannon of mine. ( I have a lot) I think Iggy would have been pretty pissed off after the war of 1812.

Fatherly England is fun to write. XD and FemCanada is adorable. I wanted to add to the end a part where Matt asks if they can have Breakfast for dinner and dinner for breakfast, but it ended nicly there. maybe I'll put up a bonus chapter or something.

I'm sorry for using imperial, it just sounded better than "Five centimetres." especially since it's Al XD

History:

I'm too lazy and sleepy to write a long explanation. soooooo:

America wanted to have Upper and lower Canada. Canadians were all "Hells, no, bitches." and whooped some american ass. Britain was currently fighting france in europe(as always). America beat the british Navy and was like,"take that, jerkwads". Canadians feel as though they are "the only country to win a war against America." could be true. All the teritory captured was given back after the Treaty of Ghent. If the U.S. had been successful, there would be no Canada. that would not be fun at all, especially for Canadians and fanpeoples.

If you wanna learn more than my lazy discription, I highly recomend www. 1812 .gc .ca it's quite neat. ( 200th aniversary thing by Canadian gov't. they had comercials and everything!)

If I need to fix anything, tell me! And don't forget to review!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** You know the drill: don't own, no offense, sorry for crappy semi chapter.

* * *

The door to the meeting room swung open just as she was about to knock, causing her to jump back a little. "Sorry! Are you ready?" she asked as England pulled on his coat.

He smiled at her "Yes, poppet." he said as he kissed her head, making her blush slightly. "Now, are you hungry? We could get some food if you like."

"Yes! Oh, Dad, I brought some syrup from home, and I could make us pancakes!" as they started to walk down the hall she linked her arm with his.

He looked down at her with an eyebrow raised, "But don't you usually eat those for breakfast?"

Canada shrugged, "Usually, but sometimes you can have breakfast for dinner. And if you want, dinner can be for breakfast."

Arthur chuckled, "Alright then. We shall have breakfast for dinner and dinner for breakfast, and you shall make your wonderful pancakes."

"Sounds like a plan," Mattea giggled.

And so they had a glorious backwards meal day. Because they could.

. . . . .

Alfred stared as his sister walked off with Arthur, chatting about pancakes and the like, while the elder listened, now acting as though he hadn't just yelled at him. He wondered what insanity his family had that allowed them to be so absolutely furious, scary, and downright mean one moment, and then the nicest people on the planet the next.

As they disappeared down the hall, a thought almost as scary as Arthur had been came to him: What if he had that same insanity too?

* * *

A/N:

BECAUSE I CAN. because I can. XD

I don't even know where this came from. but it did, so here. I spent all of 15 minutes on it. Family fluff is fun, don't deny. you love it as much as I do. I feel Matt in any universe would want pancakes for breakfast. (Who wouldn't?)

Where did you think Canada got all that cazy from? France? I think not. Al is worried for his own non-crazyness, as he should be with family lik Matt And Arthur. And she calls him Dad bescause she calls Francis 'Papa', so it's only fair. And Iggy calls her 'Poppet' 'cause that's how I roll. It makes him more fatherly, I think. (My grandpa is British and he calls me poppet. It makes me feel special~ and feeling special is good:D) It means (if you didn't know) dear, love or sweetie. And is just adorable.

I do appologize if this is totally out of context, but I don't care. this story needed some fluff. and fluff I have made. plus I felt like writting this. (I did mention breakfast for dinner in the authour's notes of the main story...) that is the end of this story. I promise...maybe...no, I promise.


End file.
